


Tiefe Brunnen muss man graben. Wenn man klares Wasser will.

by GwendolenFairfax



Series: Wünsch Dir Was, Ich Sag Nicht Nein [1]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: BDSM, Established Relationship, M/M, Negotiations, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Wünsch Dir Was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 11:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24848839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolenFairfax/pseuds/GwendolenFairfax
Summary: Somewhere in France, sometime around 2002, Richard and Till are on vacation together. It's also raining and storming. Time for necessary negotiations.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe & Till Lindemann, Richard Kruspe/Till Lindemann
Series: Wünsch Dir Was, Ich Sag Nicht Nein [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797655
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43





	Tiefe Brunnen muss man graben. Wenn man klares Wasser will.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moon_waves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_waves/gifts).



> Alix, this is for you! I hope you like it. Your choice of pairing and lyrics was damn inspiring! <3
> 
> This one took a while because I got sidetracked heavily while doing research for it (bondage/shibari ties sure are interesting). I feel it's important to say that this is not an inofficial chapter of "Lieben und Verdammen", because both Till and Richard are different here. Now please enjoy and yes, I too do love comments!
> 
> The awesome, talented, lovely [symmetr-eye](https://symmetr-eye.tumblr.com/) created wonderful art work for this fic which you can find at the end of the story. I am so insanely grateful! <3

They are both sitting at the table in the kitchen of their vacation house. Till on one side: sweatpants, t-shirt, hair barely 2 centimeters. Richard on the other: jeans, long-sleeve shirt, his dyed black hair shaggy and unstyled. Till has one third of the table, Richard has another one. The middle ground is occupied, mainly by rows of playing cards, Grimbergen beer bottles – both empty and half-full – an overstuffed ashtray and a small bowl with honey roasted almonds. They’re playing Russian Bank.

It’s raining heavily outside and a storm is blowing. The wind is pushing waves and waves of raindrops against the windowpanes of the old stone cottage. They rattle in their frames with every new wave.

It’s Richard’s turn, but he looks up from the cards warily when the rattling is accompanied by a loud howling sound. _What was that?_

_Wind catching in the chimney_ , Till replies and looks at Richard in the warm light of the brass chandelier above the table. _Don’t you remember the old coal furnace you had in your apartment in the Prenzlauer Berg before the landlord installed central heating?_

_Of course I remember. I will never forget how annoying it was to keep that stupid old thing going. I’m convinced it was pre-war._

_Why you ask then?_ Till grabs his bottle and takes a sip of beer, his eyes are not leaving Richard’s.

_It’s called human interaction,_ Richard grumbles and looks back at the cards. _I’m sure you can remember how to do it if you really try._

Till laughs. _Damn, why are you so pissed off?_

_Because apparently we drove all the way to France only so that you can interrogate me undisturbedly,_ Richard retorts coolly. He can’t place the jack of spades anywhere, so he grabs for his packet of Gitanes and looks back up at Till. _Your turn._

Till doesn’t laugh anymore. His eyes have turned darker and he looks angry now. _How am I interrogating you?_ He isn’t touching the cards. _If you'd rather go outside to the beach right now, I’m up for it. It beats sitting inside with you right now._

Richard returns Till’s angry look. He lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag. _I don’t mean right now. I mean the question you asked yesterday._

Till’s dark eyebrows slide upwards with realization and incredulity. _One question is not an interrogation._

_I agree, but not accepting my answer and asking again is,_ Richard says darkly.

Till sighs. _Because I know you weren’t being completely honest._

_That is insanely arrogant,_ Richard points out irately while throwing both hands in the air.

_You are right probably,_ Till concedes with sudden calm, _but that doesn’t make my statement that you didn’t tell me everything less true._

_I told you everything!_

_No, you didn’t._

_Yes, I did!_

_If you did, why don’t you ask me why I believe that you didn’t?_

Richard remains silent now and takes a drag. His eyes wander off to the rattling windows, his jaw muscles tense.

_And you know you don’t have to answer my questions,_ Till adds quietly after a moment.

Richard blows out the smoke in one exasperated go. _But if I don’t..._ He interrupts himself and stares at Till.

_If you don’t, you don’t get what you want,_ Till completes grimly.

Richard makes an angry gesture with his cigarette. _But you don’t get what you want either. Why are you being complicated?_

Till barks out a dark laugh. _I’m being complicated?_

_Yes! Of course! You are the one denying us stuff we want by insisting that I answer questions I am not comfortable answering._

Till leans forward towards the middle of the table abruptly, his face dead serious. _Because I can’t do “stuff” with you ever again before you answer the question! For that “stuff” it’s essential that you answer. Dishonesty means risking your physical and your and my mental health during “stuff”._

The expression on Richard’s face tells a story of uncertain anger, his brow is furrowed, his teeth are clenched. He falls silent again, sips at his beer, puts his cigarette out in the overstuffed ashtray, but his gaze stays on Till. Finally he leans forward. _Okay, so let’s make this an interrogation,_ he says slowly and juts his chin out. _A two-way interrogation. You ask me questions and I ask you questions. And we both have to answer honestly._

_Fair enough,_ Till answers without batting an eye. He props up his elbows on the kitchen table, interlaces his fingers, braces his chin on his hands and continues to look at Richard. He has his full attention.

_Good, I start,_ Richard declares immediately, eyes fixed on Till. _But first off: How do we call the stuff? It feels stupid to not give it a name._

_They call it BDSM._ Till gives a little shrug.

Richard makes a face and shakes his head vehemently. _That’s so clinical!_

Till smiles across his interlaced fingers. _You mean it’s not romantic enough?_

The tense expression in Richard’s face softens when he smiles as well. _Exactly._

_They also call it playing,_ Till offers, grinning.

Richard grimaces again. _That’s the romantic word you offer? And what am I? 5? There has to be a better name._

_No more ideas at the moment_ , Till hums. _Let’s ask questions first. Might help us to define what it is._

_Okay._ Richard lights another Gitanes and looks at Till through the smoke. _What are you most excited about when we do stuff?_

_A lot excites me when we do stuff._ A dark, puckish grin ghosts across Till’s features. _It’s hard to say what does the most. Maybe the fact that you submit._

Richard ignores Till’s grin, instead he inquires curiously, _Why?_

Till tilts his head to the side, his chin still on his folded hands. _Ultimately because I feel like you are bad at it. You’re bad at it because you hate to submit. You hate it so much that it’s impossible to even get you to cooperate at times because it smells like submission to you. But when we do stuff, you submit yourself to me. You let me have my way with you. That is very, very exciting._ Since his eyes don’t leave Richard’s face, he notices the shadows that cloud his expression. He continues in a softer voice, _Being headstrong and proud aren’t bad traits, not even by themselves, Richard. And they’re part of you, so no need to worry._ Till smiles at him. It’s a charming smile.

Richard sighs anyways, eyes wandering unfocusedly to one of the empty beer bottles, lingering there, and combs a hand through his hair. _But it’s complicated. That’s one of the reasons why your question is so hard._ He drags at his cigarette.

_Let me ask again then,_ Till says quietly, but inevitably. _What are your reasons for doing stuff with me?_

Richard exhales the smoke through his nose, lips pressed together, and stares at the bottle. Eventually he mumbles, _I’ve already told you that I enjoy the pain. But... You know,_ he looks at Till with a sarcastic smile, _stubbornness might not be a bad trait. But it sucks when you are trying to please as many people as possible at the same time. It isn’t compatible._

Till doesn’t say anything, just nods slowly and continues to listen intently.

_Like say I talk to Paul, we discuss the tempo of a song and we disagree. On the one hand I want to convince him that my idea is good, want him to see that... I am right. Not because I feel superior to him, but because I thought about it a lot and because I have valid reasons. It’s hard to submit to his idea then if he continues to have a different opinion because it feels like I am agreeing to something that is less than perfect. Feels like... I am allowing mediocrity._ _So I fight tooth and nail to not let that happen._ Richard looks stressed, his face is tense and he shifts in his chair uneasily every few seconds. His voice sounds like he has to fight every word. _But on the other hand I... don’t want him to be angry with me. If he is mad at me, I start to panic that he might not like me anymore. I know that probably sounds melodramatic, but I... I like it when people like me. So..._ He rubs his eyes with one hand. _Trying to have my way while trying to please people at the same time so they won’t get mad at me is... complicated._

Till nods to signal that he is still listening, then he stands up and goes to the fridge.

In the meantime, Richard continues, his voice a little lighter now, _But when we do stuff, everything is easy. Shit, it’s so wonderfully easy._

Till comes back with two fresh bottles of Grimbergen. He opens them with Richard’s lighter, one after the other, and places one bottle in front of Richard, then he says with a grin, _So I’m easy?_ He sits down again and sips at his beer.

Richard has stopped shifting and just looks exhausted instead, but he is returning Till’s grin. _Super easy._ He picks up his bottle and has a big sip, then he mumbles, almost shyly, his pale blue eyes darting across the playing cards between them, _What I mean is that I find it easy to please you when we do stuff. It’s easy to submit if submitting means pleasing you. Easier anyways. And... you believe in my abilities to satisfy what you want. You have no idea how reassuring that is._

Till starts pushing the cards together slowly and when Richard falls silent, he murmurs, a smile in his deep voice, _Thank you for telling me._

Richard lifts his eyes at Till, who is already looking at him, then he grins. _Now can we finally do what we both want? The beach is a shitty alternative._

_Is there anything else you want to add to your answer?_ Till asks with a serious expression and looks Richard deep in the eye.

Richard returns the look, unblinking and open, and shakes his head. _No. That’s the reason why I want to do stuff with you._

Till puts the cards aside. _Any epiphanies regarding the name?_ he asks with a sunny grin.

_Not yet, but I’m sure it will come to me eventually. It usually does. That’s why Paul should listen to me. And everybody else, too._ Richard grins broadly, leans back in his chair and winks.

_Ah_ , _I finally see the light now,_ Till deadpans and gets up. He reaches out a hand to Richard. _I don’t want to hear another word from you now. Come._

Richard stands up immediately with a deep breath and puts his hand in Till's.

It’s not raining as heavily as before, but although the wind has subsided a bit, the windows are still rattling every now and then.

Till leads Richard up the flight of stairs to the second floor and into the bathroom, a room with a low ceiling, slate flooring and a surprisingly modern and spacious glass walk-in shower. He tells him to undress and get under the shower, then he joins him and washes both Richard and himself thoroughly, yet swiftly. Meanwhile, he quietly hums “Enjoy the Silence”.

Richard does what Till tells him.

After the shower, Till towels Richard off and combs his wet hair back carefully. He tells him to stand on the bath mat while he dries himself and dresses in a fluffy, white bathrobe. Then he takes Richard’s hand again and they go to the master bedroom opposite the bathroom.

The room is spacious. It has off-white, plastered walls and two floor-to-ceiling windows that look over the rose garden of the cottage and the rain that is dying down by the minute. There is a big bed with an open-framed metal headboard and a similar footboard, a wooden desk next to a window and a sitting area with two wing chairs in a corner.

In this bedroom, they just stand in front of each other for a moment, close together, middle ground, Richard looks at Till and Till looks Richard...

-

Richard seems calm. The rise and fall of his naked, shaven chest is even, the soft ripples of his abdominal muscles are relaxed, his pale blue eyes are quiet, the hint of a tranquil smile is playing on his lips. A few drops of water have dripped off the wet strands of his hair onto his shoulders. Till gives in to temptation, leans forward and licks them off the warm skin. The tip of his tongue leaves a trail that connects the spots where the drops have been. Richard sighs languorously, but stays silent and unmoving.

Till lifts his head again eventually, looks Richard in the eye and says, his deep voice soft, but assertive, _Get two of the big pillows from the bed,_ Liebes _, and place them in front of the window._ He points over to the window next to the desk. _Then wait there for me._

Richard starts moving immediately.

Meanwhile, Till goes to his suitcase, opens it and digs for the coils of natural hempen rope that are at the bottom. He picks two. When he turns around again, Richard is standing next to the pillows in front of the tall window, his chin lowered, but his eyes on him. His naked body is framed perfectly by the wet glass panes behind him and the colors of the rose garden beyond. Till indulges in the view for a moment, then he walks over and holds out one coiled rope. _Hold this for me._

Richard lifts both hands, palms upwards.

Till places one rope in them, then he uncoils the other one. He doubles the rope over. Then he winds the doubled length around Richard’s neck twice so that is forms a loose loop which he then fixes with a knot. He notices the goosebumps beneath his fingers.

Richard lifts his chin to make is easier for Till to access his neck. He looks relaxed and holds the second rope.

Till drops the long trailing end of the rope so that it hangs from Richard’s neck down to the floor. Then he uses both hands to pluck at the knot until it looks nice and lies symmetrically in the dip between Richard’s collarbones. When he is satisfied with the result, he takes the second rope from Richard’s raised hands, uncoils it, doubles it over as well and hangs it across his own shoulder.

Their eyes lock for a moment, wordless transfer of intimacy, communication, then they both smile.

Till grasps Richard firmly by his wrists, brings them together in front of his chest and pushes against them sternly.

Richard immediately gets the idea and kneels down.

Till mirrors the movement and uses Richard’s joined wrists to push him down onto his back. He only applies little force - more isn’t necessary -, but it still manages to send a pleasant shiver through Till’s body.

Richard stretches his legs out and keeps his wrist close to each other. He also brings his elbows together.

Till smiles at him. _You remember the trick with the elbows. That’s nice._

The smile Richard gives in return is almost entranced and he takes a deep, open breath.

Till takes the rope off his shoulder and wraps it around Richard’s wrists twice which is easy because the elbows are close together. Then he brings both ends upward, winds the bight - the end where the middle of the rope is - between Richard’s wrists around all the wraps once and secures the tie with a knot. Eventually he tightens the knot by pulling at the trailing end of the rope. Then he inspects the tie. It doesn’t compress the wrist badly, but it’s tight nevertheless.

_I got you now,_ Liebes, Till whispers and smiles at Richard, the eyes dark.

A raw, involuntary moan escapes Richard’s throat and he shivers.

Till inhales deeply. There are so many things he enjoys about this. So many and many of them so intricate that he is glad that Richard didn’t ask him to count them all, because he wouldn’t be able to even name most of them. He seizes the makeshift leash, stands up and tugs gently. _Kneel for me on one of the pillows._

Richard lowers his bound wrists between his legs while he sits up and gets into the demanded position, a pillow under his knees. He looks up at Till.

_You are inspiring me, so I will have to write a few things down now,_ Till says softly while he smiles at Richard. _In the meantime, I want you to kneel, but I want you to change between standing on your knees and sitting back on your heels. If you feel like your legs are falling asleep, you will switch positions. If you need anything, you will raise your hands in front of your face. Do you think you can do that?_ He looks him deep in the eye.

Richard returns the look openly and nods.

Till believes him, so he winds the end of the leash around his left hand, loosely, so that it isn’t taut, but that he could make is so, and sits down in the leather desk chair. He pours himself a glass of water from the jug that sits on the desk, then he opens his notebook and starts writing.

Poetry grips Till's mind and seizes his heart, holds him hostage for a long while, longer than the rain lasts, longer than the light of the day as well. But at the same time, two big parts of his mind and his heart are with Richard. Richard, who is kneeling on the floor next to the desk for the long while, his bound hands sometimes between his legs, sometimes on his thighs, sometimes he adjusts his position, sometimes he wiggles his fingers to get the blood flow going again, sometimes he looks at him, his eyes half-closed, always appearing calm, almost tranquil, content, happy.

He lifts his hands only once. Since Richard is not allowed to talk, Till asks questions so that he can nod or shake his head. Till finds out Richard wants water, so he guides his glass to Richard’s lips so he can drink. Richard does without hesitation and lets Till control how much water he gets and how fast. Not a second between offer and trust. It’s beautiful. 

What finally liberates Till from the grasp of poetry though is not Richard, who is partly responsible for Till’s capture anyways, but the lack of light in the room which makes writing impossible. In semi-darkness, he sips at his water, then he turns on the shaded desk lamp and looks at Richard.

Richard’s eyes are on him too, not half-closed anymore, but wide open, longing, hungry, desperate even. His lips are half-open, his breathing is unsteady, his posture tense.

Till smiles when he realizes that Richard’s patience must have run out a while ago, but that he has still managed to keep quiet anyways. He’s proud. But even stronger is the feeling of unreflecting, feral ecstasy that accompanies the awareness of how much control over Richard he has and how much Richard is willing to submit. _Come,_ he orders breathlessly and pulls at the leash while shifting his chair away from the desk to make room.

Richard obeys hastily and crawls over to Till. It’s awkward because of his bound wrists, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Instead he settles on the floor between Till’s spread legs and looks up at him with almost demanding urgency.

Till shifts to the edge of the chair, places his right hand at the back of Richard’s head while pulling him even closer by the end of the rope. _Blow me_ , Liebes, he growls.

Richard wastes no time and does.

It’s wet and messy, it’s rough and painful, it’s Till’s hand in Richard’s hair, it’s Richard’s bound hands clutching at Till’s calf, it’s Till’s loud pants and Richard’s choking moans, it’s soft skin and sensitive nerve endings, it’s lips and teeth and tongue and Richard’s throat.

\- 

_Devotion,_ Richard whispers afterwards, his voice hoarse, still sitting on the floor between Till’s feet, his head leaned against the inside of Till’s left knee, _that’s what it is. For both you and me._

Till falls silent for a second, his rough features pensive, while he strokes Richard’s head, then ne nods with a smile, _You are right. I’m glad that it came to you after all. But..._ His hand glides downward and clasps the back of Richard’s neck. _You weren’t supposed to talk._

_I know_ , Richard rasps with a delicate, yet bold smile and looks up, a glint in his blue eyes.

Till tightens his grip in the back of Richard’s neck, but he smiles softly when he answers, _Didn’t you say you wanted to please me?_

_I just did_ , Richard claims, the cheeky smile still playing on his lips. _I gave you a reason to hurt me._

Till shivers in sheer, feral delight, then he bends down and presses his lips onto Richard’s in a passionate, wild kiss that only lasts for a few seconds, because neither of them could endure the intensity for long. Liebes, he pants against Richard’s lips then, _bring me the cane from my suitcase._

_Yes_ , Richard whispers, just as breathless, and gets going.

**Author's Note:**

> © [symmetr-eye](https://symmetr-eye.tumblr.com/)


End file.
